


Ashleigh

by KrinnDNZ



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Hypnosis, Petplay, bad business practices, bad consent practices, bimbo, business jargon, ditz, flash cards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:00:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6509632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrinnDNZ/pseuds/KrinnDNZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I remembered that I needed to upload this: this is a story that I wrote mostly for a friend and which never got put out in public. If you liked "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2676617">Mutt</a>," odds are good that you'll like this. This was also an experiment in trying to write ditz/bimbo kink in a way that didn't make me heinously uncomfortable. These characters' consent practices aren't great, but they resolve it by the end, and I think that I got them to enact the kink earnestly in a way that both avoids the heinous discomfort about heteronormativity and that isn't patronizing to people who are more invested in this kink than I am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashleigh

By the end of Tuesday Ashleigh was in a pleasantly vacant haze, barely paying attention to her bracelet, and Wednesday morning when she was looking in the mirror after her shower, she shivered as she turned it on her wrist, smooth chrome slipping over pale skin.

“Turn one, turn two, turn three, wake up,” she instructed herself firmly, looking into her eyes in the mirror.

The “wake up” made her blink a few times, then sigh contentedly. She reached into her travel-bag, pulled out a stack of index cards: shuffling them, she took two off the top.

“I think we can really move the needle on that,” she read with a giggle, feeling light-hearted already as she fipped to the second one. “Oooh: circle back.” She looked at herself in the mirror and took on a serious tone, imitating Max’s voice. “We’re gonna need to circle back before we can give you a serious up or down there, but I think what you just said has the potential to really move the needle for both of us.” She stood, swaying, grinning vacantly, until her hand slowly reached up and turned her braclet. A series of blinks, and she was awake again.

“Whoooof. Don’t go too far into bimbo mode before you even see the first client, Ashleigh!” she reprimanded herself, tugging on the bracelet.

“But it’s fuuuunnnnnn,” she cooed at her reflection, then winked at it as she left to get dressed.

A tight chemise, mid-thigh length, in rosso-corsa red went on first, then a long light cream coat, white stockings with a stripe of mesh up the back, and her feet slipped into a pairt of sleek red heels. With a quick layer of foundation, a bold application of mascara, and a firm line of ruby lip gloss, she was ready to go. When Max opened the door to her own motel room, the heels gave Ashleigh just enough height to grin down at her. Max was in a conservative, high-collared, taupe-grey pant-suit and charcoal flats; her dark, chestnut-brown hair was pulled back in a bun.

Max looked Ashleigh up and down, then stepped out of her room, quietly closed the door, and headed for their car.

“Today we’ve got Initech and Contoso in the morning. After lunch there’s YRB Publishing and the County. Now, yesterday went okay but while we’re on our way to Initech I’d like to drill down and get your buy-in on some specific angles of Tuesday and Monday’s pitches.” As they settled into the car, Max added “And next week after we’re done with this trip, postmorteming it, I want to circle back with you about, uh, the message you’re sending.”

Ashleigh bit the inside of her lip as Max started the car, toes briefly curling inside her stockings.

“Whaaaaat message?” she asked, voice rising.

Max gave her a sidelong look, lips pursed.

“We’re not pitching to startups full of horny 20-year-olds here: these people are serious about thought leadership, so we’ve got to be serious about our brand. I don’t think we’re gonna achieve our deliverables if it’s — if we move the needle and it’s the one in their pants, and I don’t mean their wallets.”

Ashleigh rubbed her thighs together, hands in her lap, flushing lightly. She made doe eyes at Max.

“I’m sorrrrrry. I just want to help.”

Max sighed and rolled her eyes. She looked over her shoulder, then stopped the car just before the exit of the parking lot.

“I know you do. Hand me my purse, ’kay?”

“Okay!” Ashleigh answered brightly.

Max plucked a candy-red iPod with its slim white cable and earbuds from her purse. She smiled as she pressed it into Ashleigh’s hands.

“Just press play on that. It’s a set of motivational exercises I found: moving forward, I think that it could really help you leverage your existing value-adds.”

Ashleigh pressed play as they pulled out into traffic.

“I think it could really move the needle for you,” Max said.

Ashleigh opened her eyes again when Max gently tugged the earbuds out and offered her a hand to help her step out of the car.

“Hi,” she said vacantly.

She rose, pliant and grinning, as Max coaxed her up. As Ashleigh stood, Max slipped her chrome bracelet off her wrist and tucked it into a suit pocket.

“Hey,” Ashleigh said, making her confused face.

“Oh you don’t need that,” Max said, putting one hand on Ashleigh’s back and turning her towards the Initech building. She handed Ashleigh her purse and shouldered her own. “You’ve got such pretty wrists and nails, let them stand on their own. We’ll circle back later about that bracelet.”

Ashleigh’s eyes crossed a little as she followed Max inside and to the conference room — light-headed, she was pulled along, following the sales meeting only intermittently. Someone using her voice gave polite answers to questions that Max ordered her to answer: she watched herself answering dreamily, delayed and languid. Her hand strayed to her bare wrist a few times, squeezing it. By the end of the meeting she was looking out the window and curling her hair around one index finger, ankles crossed, the conversation racing past her, racing past her comprehension, racing past her care.

As they headed back to the car, Max laughed quietly.

“You really charmed them. Too bad you didn’t pick up on it. I think the red-tie one — you don’t remember their names, do you? — would’ve fucked you over the table if he could.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what I thought.” Max looked her in the eye. “You proactively impressed the stakeholders, Ashleigh, we’ve got a great list of take-homes that are end-of-day actionable.”

Ashleigh squirmed, the points of her heels pressing together, hands clasped behind her back. Max’s grin came over nasty.

“You’re very pretty even though you’re a dumb cunt, Ashleigh. I thought you were really smart and a little flaky on our first sales trip. Then I figured things out, and wow, you really are a shortsighted ditz, aren’t you? I don’t think you planned at _all_ for what would happen if someone figured out your little game and decided that they’d just feed you some more rope. Come on, think outside the box, Ashleigh. I don’t appreciate being used to fulfill your sexual fantasies without being told about them. Bitch. But you’re a lucky slut today, because I _am_ okay with your kinks when _I’m_ running the show. I had a friend of mine make sure with that ‘motivational exercise,’ you’d be nice and ready for me.”

“I, uh. I’m not a dumb bitch,” Ashleigh lamely insisted, fidgeting, head swaying, eyes lidding and snapping back open during Max’s speech.

“Yes you are,” Max said with a dismissive wave, smirking. “You’re exactly the kind of stupid cunt who gets off on humiliation — not on transgressing, but on stakeholders knowing that you’re transgressing and watching you do it.”

Ashleigh whimpered.

“Why are you calling me a stupid cunt, that’s mean. Why do you think I’m not a nice girl.”

Max reached out firmly and held her chin, speaking sharply, words compact and harsh.

“Because you get off on being an airheaded ditz who’d rather take point on being ball-gagged and fucked and owned than on doing endless PowerPoint decks in beige rooms. I can’t blame you for that. I can, though, make you say ‘I’m sorry Max, I _am_ a dumb cunt.’ Say it.”

Ashleigh flapped her hands, timidly stamping her feet, head twitching as though to shake — but unable to look away from Max until at last her head fell. She whimpered at the ground.

“Ah-ah. Say it clearly.”

“I’m sorry Max, I _am_ a dumb cunt.”

“Therrrrrre we go. Good girl.”

Ashleigh looked up again, eyes watering, face red, pathetically glad for the praise.

“Now since you were a good girl and did that, you’re gonna get a little treat. You might get back to where I assume you were this morning when you knocked on my door. Girl, listen carefully. Repeat with me. Nod.”

Ashleigh nodded.

“I’m very pretty and not very smart and really very horny.”

“I’m very pretty and not very smart and really very horny,” Ashleigh repeated with a smile.

“So I’m going to spend my whole next meeting wanting to masturbate.”

“So I’m going to spend my whole next meeting wanting to masturbate.”

Ashleigh bit her lip, one hand already straying towards her groin.

“If I climax in front of our clients I’ll use my trigger to be back to where I was this morning, right away.”

“If I climax in front of our clients I’ll use my trigger to be back to where I was this morning, right away.”

Ashleigh’s soft, plush lips trembled as she stared at Max and listened to her commanding words, repeating them back to her docilely.

“But if I’m still a total airhead slut at the end of the meeting, Max will take me to a place she knows and fuck my brains out the way ditzy sluts need.”

“But if I’m still a total airhead slut at the end of the meeting, Max will take me to a place she knows and fuck my brains out the way ditzy sluts need.”

Ashleigh was breathing hard as Max took hold of her wrists. Max herself had a few sweat drops as she worked to keep her voice steady, keep her eyes on Ashleigh’s.

“That’s right. Good girl. Now repeat all that back to me. I know it’s hard to remember words. Repeat it back.”

Somewhere in the middle of telling Max that she was a total airhead slut, Ashleigh found herself in the middle of the Contoso meeting as Max conspiratorially smiled at her and finished a sentence with:

“So based on what Ashleigh just said I figure we have an opportunity to really move the needle here.”

The chair she was in was leather, and when she gingerly reached between her legs she found that the tops of her stockings were quite damp, just past their elastic, and there was a distinct wet spot in the chair. Max was carrying on with the pitch and the three Contoso engineers were focused on her. Two. One was looking at her. She blew him a kiss for that. He was rugged, appealingly stubbly, probably a rock climber. She wondered what his hand would feel like on her ass, if he’d spank her while he fucked her.

Max caught her gaze briefly, and her fingers darted back away from her groin.

She tried to read the slides, and found her eye drawn to the Ys on each, picturing the arms reaching down to touch and caress the third line, the whole letter looking like a stylized crotch. Ms were little better, and capital As felt like the same thing upside-down. Every time Max or one of the Contoso engineers drew out an S, she expected them to turn to her and elongate it into “slut.” She wondered how many of them would go for it if she just walked up to the head of the table and grabbed her ankles.

At the end the Contoso engineers left first and Max calmed her down, calling her a good girl. She’d been shaking, and she felt the dampness of her stockings rubbing together acutely as she left, as she slumped into the car.

“Goooooood girl,” Max practically purred, rubbing her thigh as she started the drive. “You were the prettiest salesditz you’ve been all week!”

“I was good?”

“You were good. So now we’re gonna go have some fun. Listen to your motivational exercise, ditz.”

“Okay.” Her tone was meek, docile, and faintly pleased.

They walked from the gravel parking to the rough cinder-block brick of a building, set amid many other light-industry buildings like it in a grey, grimy district: over its door it said “Artisanal Animal Husbanding, Training, and Discourse.”

Inside it was warmly-lit, the windows blocked off in favor of skylights and orangey sodium lights. Massive cabinets and shelves lined two walls, together with crossframes, slings, and coils of rope. Max led Ashleigh by the hand to a cabinet with a variety of hood-masks, then turned to her, reached down, and put her bracelet back on.

“Back to normal,” she said. A pause. She snapped her fingers. “Um, wake up.”

Ashleigh reached up immediately, turned her bracelet, and slumped against the cabinet.

“Christ, Max!”

Max crossed her arms and pursed her lips hard, making them a thin colorless line.

“Fuck you too. I’ve got the getting-back-at-you out of my system. This is where you get to tell me where to shove it and we spend the rest of this trip doing _actual fucking sales,_ ” she snarled. She paused for a moment. “Or it’s where you get to decide that you liked today, we make you into a dumb animal who eats her lunch out of a bowl, and then we spend the rest of the trip doing actual fucking _and_ sales.”

Ashleigh huffed and puffed, slumping further down, her dress riding up and leaving its hemline at her waist as her ass settled on the padded floor, knees drawn up in front of her. Max knelt, frowning in concern, and put a hand on her knee.

“What you did wasn’t cool either,” she said quietly, unable to meet Max’s eyes.

“No, it wasn’t,” Max admitted with a sigh, taking her hand away and leaning back. “I was angry and I wanted to get back at you for doing that to me two trips in a row. I felt like you were treating _me_ like I was as stupid as you were pretending to be. And, hell, treating our customers that way too. I’m sure more than none of them could tell the difference between the way you answer questions about firmware and questions where you twirl your hair and stare into space.”

She paused, looking away.

“I’m sorry.”

Ashleigh nodded and kept breathing, then raised a finger and spoke.

“Well in the future when you put me in bimbo mode, don’t make me touch any of them. Nip-slips or whatever are okay, but don’t let them touch me. No clients touching me. Hard limit.”

Max nodded, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Okay. No client touching. Hard limit.”

Ashleigh looked up and smiled hopefully.

“I still have a ton of adrenaline from all that because it was super hot; give me a few minutes to come down,” she said. “What did you want to do for lunch?”

Max pointed to the cabinets.

“They’re real big on human animals here. I was thinking of stripping you naked and making you into a cow. Dumb, lowing, big-ass cow. You did just go two rounds with my friend’s hypno-induction thing, so I bet even I can turn you into a cow-girl.”

Ashleigh followed the pointing, looking over her shoulder, and smiled as she replied.

“I think you could really move the needle on that.”


End file.
